"The reporters waiting outside, for one."
"Assuming that Greene and Roche continue to be missing," Gearhart said, "we tell the press that both situations are still under investigation and we don't see any evidence that the disappearances are connected and that there is no evidence of criminal activity."
"That's probably best for now," Danza agreed. "Okay. That's what we tell them. Meanwhile, what do we do? We can't say there's no criminal activity and then put out a general advisory-"
"No, but we can take strong, reasonable precautions."
Gearhart said. "I've ordered Chief Deputy Valentine to increase our vehicular patrols in the hills from Goleta to Montecito. He's also stationing lookouts along San Marcos Pass and at high spots overlooking other roads, which is another reason we need to keep this quiet I don't want people spotting our guys up there with spyglasses and high-powered rifles and thinking they've found a killer. I'll be talking with Captain March at the highway patrol later this morning. We'll work out shifts to cover the highways and main roads throughout the county."
Danza nodded. "Do you want me to handle the-"
"Sheriff!"
The voice had come from the cab. Gearhart walked over, followed by Danza. The sheriff was surprised that be could smell the rubber of the gloves over the scent of the fish. Then again, maybe he'd just gotten used to the stench. He could also smell the tart scent of the IS vapors being used to search for fingerprints. The vapors were a combination of iodine and superglue, which could be sprayed onto any surface, including blood. They coalesced quickly on prints and revealed more details than traditional powder.
The sheriff stepped up to portly team leader Thomas Gomez, who was on his knees in the sand, right outside the broken windshield. The three other members of his group were working through the open passenger's side door and on the other side of the shattered windshield. There was a gentle hum coming from inside the cab. Gomez had hooked a small battery pack to the air system and was blowing the contents of the vents into plastic bags. The bags had pinholes that allowed the air out but kept particles in. Sometimes pieces of skin, strands of hair, or fluid samples ended up in the bags.
"What have you got?" Gearhart asked.
"A very weird case," Thomas admitted. "Sheriff, did the victim have a dog?"
"I don't know," Gearhart admitted. "Why?"
"Because we've got what looks like fur stuck in the blood and floating from the air vents," the balding man replied. "There's also what looks like spittle in the grooves of the floor mat. It's thicker than drool from any dog or bobcat I've ever seen, though I'll have to check it against samples from rabid animals. If it matches, that would lead us in a whole different direction. I'd also put in calls to all the local zoos and animal preserves."
Gearhart pulled his cell phone and notepad from his jacket He was angry at himself for not having thought to ask about the dog. A lot of drivers traveled with dogs for companionship, protection, and to keep from having to put them in kennels. He checked his notes for Caroline Bennett's number and called. The woman had gone back to her office with a deputy to talk to the packers in the small warehouse, see if Glen Grey had seemed different from usual the night before. There was always the chance that he had to meet with someone on the road, maybe a drug dealer or someone who held a chit, possibly a gambling debt If so, he might have been anxious or depressed.
Gearhart was only on the phone for a few seconds. "The driver did not have a dog."
"Well, that does complicate things," Gomez said. "There was almost certainly a long-haired animal here at some point."
"Maybe he picked up a stray," Danza said.
"I doubt that," Gomez said.
"Why?" Gearhart asked.
"Because I haven't found any nose-painting on the pieces of glass," Gomez replied.
"Excuse me?" Danza said.
"You're not a dog owner," Gomez said.
"No."
"If a car window is closed, dogs often put their paws on the dashboard and their wet noses on the windshield," Gomez said. "So I'm betting this was a predator, possibly drawn by blood after the accident and possibly it was a bobcat-though if a carnivore was here, I also don't understand how it managed to get the victim out without leaving footprints in the blood. A bobcat can't just pull someone through a broken window."
"I know," Gearhart said He looked back across the smashed walls of the truck. "And an animal didn't cause those breaks."
"I also don't understand why there isn't a trace of the victim other than blood and a few strands of hair," Thomas went on. "A large boa constrictor could do that, but they don't have fur, they don't live here, and they leave slither marks, which pretty much rules that out. Like I said, it's a weird one. I'll know more after we get the fur and spittle samples over to the lab."
Gearhart nodded, then called Chief Deputy Daniel Mahoney, head of Support Services-as the sheriff's office floaters were known. The unit backed up all the other divisions. The sheriff told Mahoney to have one of his deputies check with the Santa Barbara Zoo and to call everyone in the database who might own or train big cats, wolves, Komodo dragons, or other predators, possibly for the movies. Gearhart wanted to make sure all the animals were accounted for. If no one picked up the phone or if Mahoney thought someone was not telling the truth-private owners occasionally lied to try to get their animals back before they were shot or confiscated-Gearhart told the chief deputy to send a car out. Mahoney said he'd have the answers before noon.
Gearhart put the phone away and went back to the cab. Danza excused herself to brief the press.
Though the sheriff had gone through the drill with Mahoney, he wasn't convinced that an animal had done this. Scavenged perhaps, but not killed or taken the driver. His gut told him this was a thrill-kill, as Danza had said.
In Vietnam and in Los Angeles, Gearhart had seen people do sadistic and bizarre things. Some of them were worse than this. Now, as then, he didn't spend time trying to understand why they did it. He tried to find evidence that pointed to who was responsible and where they might be now or the next day. And then, whether it was in a humid jungle or an overcrowded city, he did one thing more.
He made sure they didn't do it again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hannah Hughes wanted to tear someone's head off and throw it. Hard. Preferably Gearhart's, though the head of any bureaucrat would do. At the very least the reporter felt like tossing her small tape recorder into the banquet tent and running in after it.
Oops! Dropped it. Sorry.
What was the worst the sheriff could do. Arrest her? Gearhart wouldn't want to give her the publicity. But she was afraid that he'd bar her from other sites, so she behaved herself.
It was just before eight-thirty in the morning and a dozen reporters were packed into a small area ten feet from the tent on the north side of the beach. Sandbags and the breakwater kept them from getting closer on the other sides of the tent Hannah and the Wall had been on the beach since six-thirty, ever since Karen Orlando came in and happened to pick up the highway patrol radio report of the accident. Hannah wished she had the money to hire someone just to monitor all the police and fire department communications during the night. Then they could get a jump on stories like these. By the time they got here, the tent had already been raised and Gearhart had put out the DO NOT PASS GO tape. The only information reporters had been given was that a fish truck belonging to Bennett's Surf had gone off the road and that the driver was dead. Hannah had tried to reach Caroline Bennett several times on her cell phone, but the line had been busy. Hannah left messages for her to call back.
In the meantime, Hannah paced the small patch of beach between the tape and the breakwater. She looked at the area around the sunlit rocks, at the steamy road-the tread marks were light, indicating only a modest application of the brakes-at the sea. There were a pair of the sheriff's patrol boats near shore. That was unusual. They had to be part of the investigation, but why? Hannah was also disturbed by things she wasn't seeing and by the attitude of many of the reporters. Some of the print people had spent an expense-accounted night in Santa Barbara rather than go back to Los Angeles, Fresno, and Monterey. They were drinking coffee and earing croissants and apparently waiting for either the chance to photograph a colorful wreck or for something to break with the missing engineers. And that seemed to interest them only because it might involve blind thrusts. Freshly uncovered faults in Southern California were always newsworthy.